The House of Dreams
by loveretriever
Summary: War fic from Angelina's POV. Her world is falling apart, but all she can hold onto are thoughts of him. Inspired by Agatha Christie's short story collection The Harlequin Tea Set, my friend, who gave me the idea for the photograph, and the LJ prompt Heart. One shot standalone Angelina/Montague.


Note: I have been gone for over a month and it feels like so long ago...So this was an idea that started off as a dark fic about the war (whatever war you'd like - second war, post-war DEs reign, etc.) And then it turned into more than just a drabble...And then my friend decided I needed to be less depressing rawr. Sooooo long story short, this is the result. Originally written for my drabble fic collection, it has now become a stand-alone...

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Title: The House of Dreams  
Drabble-fic inspired by LJ's fanfic100 Prompt: Heart  
Title inspired by Agatha Christie's short story of the same name in the collection entitled _The Harlequin Tea Set_

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They had all been friends, once upon a time.

She stares at a moving picture of Oliver, Katie, Alicia, Fred, George, a younger version of herself and Harry. It was her fifth year when Gryffindor won the Cup. She smiles and puts the photograph down, smirking as Fred and George lift a startled Oliver above their heads, shouting, "We are the champions!" much to Flint's, and the other Slytherins', annoyance.

At second glance, she sees him in the picture - a lone figure near the edge of the frame. He watches her photo self as she exits to victory and celebrations. He's positively beaming at her, although the rest of his team, and his House, are angry and upset.

She has never noticed him before and she watches, eyes transfixed on his body. He was always handsome, even back then in school. She's known this fact, though she fought the attraction between them for years.

He had always loved her, or so he claimed.

She had only just started to love him when he disappeared.

At first, she had been afraid to love him. But now, when it's all too little too late, she knows that he was scared, too. In the beginning. But he found his courage and, defying everything, he loved her.

She cries now, silent tears leaking from her sober eyes. She mouths, "I love you," to his grinning photograph.

He doesn't have a portrait. She refuses to give up on him, even though he's been gone for two years.

She insists he'll come back. She insists he will never stop trying to find her. He had chased her all over the world to propose to her. She knows he'll do anything to make his way back to her side. She loves him and only regrets that she didn't take every opportunity she had to prove it to him.

She doesn't go out anymore. She doesn't see her old friends from school. Most people tell her to move on and find a real man.

A real man? She snorts. Yeah, like who? A paisley, old Gryffindor? A safe, clingy Hufflepuff? A pragmatic, stoic Ravenclaw? She shakes her head in disgust.

In times of war, no one is safe. She knows this best of all. It was her husband who disappeared, and he was a Death Eater. Well, she believed he was. She is fairly certain he took the Mark, but she never asked and he never told her. She presumed it was for her safety, but now she wishes she knew.

She wishes she had shared so much more with him.

Her thoughts go around and around like this every night until she is exhausted. She always blames herself for not doing something. She drinks and gets angry at him for leaving her and then she cries until the night passes and the sun's rays gently fall through the grimy windows. She always hates the sun, as though it were another sign that her love is not coming home.

Her body is worn out and dark circles line her eyes. It takes her days to fall asleep. And when she does, it's not three hours before she is awake once more, pacing back and forth. Her eyes are shifty, scared, as if every shadow conceals the truth she is willing to fade away.

She does her best to cope with her life, but after two long years, her world is falling apart. She no longer goes to work. She still receives payment, but it is little compared to what she used to have. She has no idea how she lives anymore. She does not realize that his Gringotts account has taken care of her needs and that her food is made by the house elf she never sees.

She blames herself each time her mind runs in circles, trying to figure out why he is gone.

She never realizes he is taking care of her, has always taken care of her, as her mind slowly breaks.

The last thing she remembers is his name.

"Gavin."

A tall man steps forwards and picks up her unconscious form, cradling her to his chest.

She briefly opens her eyes and smiles, encircling his neck with her arms.

"Gavin," she repeats herself. This time, her voice is a happy sigh of recognition. He is home and normality has been restored.

Her world spins into fuzzy static, but she is relaxed. She feels safe.

"Angelina. My darling," he whispers, as he carries her to their bedroom. His lined face flickers slightly when at last he allows a smile to grace his features.


End file.
